Holding Pattern
by Merlin71
Summary: Kindred tag.


TITLE: Holding Pattern

AUTHOR: Merlin7/clarkangel

DISCLAIMER: Not mine

RATING: T

ARCHIVE: Anywhere

SUMMARY: John is taking care of everyone else in the aftermath of Teyla's kidnapping and the Carson clone being put in stasis. But who is taking care of John?

**HOLDING PATTERN**

He was tired. An achy, bone-deep, weigh you down kind of tired.

John knew he wasn't the only one feeling this way. Everyone was suffering. It had been difficult enough when Teyla went missing, but add a cloned Carson into the mix and it wasn't much of a surprise that everyone was shook up and reeling from anxiety and stress. But they had to hold it together. He had to help them keep it together. So he did what he could, any way he could.

Which was why he hunted Lorne down at the shooting range. He knew the Major was bogged down by guilt and that said guilt was going to turn into a hindrance if he didn't get past it. So John sidled up beside him, wearing his headphones and aiming his beretta at the target in front of him. He unloaded the clip, every shot dead center. When he was done he reloaded, feeling Lorne's gaze burning into him. He removed his headphones then turned to face the CO2.

"You did nothing wrong, Major," John said softly, as he shoved his piece back into the holster. "There was nothing you could do to stop Teyla from being taken. The only person anyone blames for this mess is Michael."

"Doesn't make me feel any better, sir," Lorne replied, with aching honesty.

John nodded. "Yeah, I know." He understood the guilt Lorne was feeling all too well. When you couldn't save or protect your people, it was like a knife twisting deep in your gut. "Teyla would let you off the hook, you know. If it were someone else gone and you were blaming yourself, she'd be telling you to let it go. To focus on what you can do, not what you can't change."

Lorne almost smiled at that. "She's been practicing on you a lot, hasn't she, Colonel?"

"It's good advice," John countered, not admitting to anything. Although Teyla had said those same exact words to him. More than once. He patted Lorne on the shoulder. "I've got two cold beers in my quarters and some golf balls waiting on the pier. Feel like keeping me company?"

"Sounds like a plan, sir," Lorne allowed, looking grateful. "Meet you there in twenty minutes? I want to clean up first." He held up his hands and his skin was stained dark with oil.

John was good with that. It would give him time to shower and try to relieve the aches in his muscles that just wouldn't seem to go away. No doubt from all the tension that kept them tight and coiled, twenty-four/seven. "See you then, Major." Turning sharply on his heel, John strode out, wanting to give Lorne a moment of down time. He felt confidant he could help Lorne come to terms with things and get back on track. Sometimes a token beer, mindless motion and distracting conversation worked wonders.

So he headed for his quarters and jumped right in the shower. Ten minutes later he was dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, the two beers in hand.

Two hours later, Lorne was laughing and telling stories about his childhood and his early days at SGC.

John smiled as he listened. Mission accomplished. For now. They all just had to keep going. One day at a time.

OoO

It was after midnight. John had sent his team to bed after their post mission checks. They had returned, weary and discouraged, from another planet search for Teyla. Todd was helping them find places to look, but so far four more days had passed and they were no closer to finding Teyla. They were all worried and hurting. About that, and about other things.

After his own check, John had gone to his room to shower and change. He didn't even bother to try sleeping, because he knew he would just lie there and stare at the ceiling. So after making his rounds of the city, he had ended up in the Stasis chamber.

Sitting on the floor, John stared at Carson's still form. "Keep the faith, Doc," he whispered. "No one is going to give up on you." Even knowing that Carson was a clone, John knew they all wanted him back. It was like getting a second chance and they would take them where they could get them.

Heaving a sigh, John pushed to his feet and quietly made the rounds of the city. An hour later he ended up in the infirmary, knowing he would find Keller awake and staring into a microscope. She was determined to find a way to save Carson. To fix him. But John knew miracles didn't happen overnight, and that Keller pushing herself to make them happen was only going to hinder her in the long run.

"Hey, Doc," he called out softly, not finding it strange to call her that. He felt she had earned the right to the nickname as much as Carson had. They were both good people, both dedicated to their work. Dedicated to saving lives. John respected that.

She didn't turn to face him until he touched her shoulder, then she squeaked and nearly jumped off her stool, before she recognized him. "Sorry," Keller whispered. "You startled me.

John smiled at her. "Sorry. I called to you, but you were pretty focused on whatever you were looking at."

"Another failure," Keller replied, scrubbing at her eyes with one fist. "That's what I was looking at."

"You need to get some sleep." John's voice was firm as he took her by the arm and led her into her office. Carson's old office. The office John hoped they would be sharing one day. "Take a break." He pushed her down onto the couch in the corner. It was more comfortable than the hospital beds. John knew that from experience. Carson had made him rest there a few times, when he'd been determined to keep vigil over his team members, or Elizabeth.

Dropping her head into her hands, Keller mumbled a reply. "Sleep is overrated."

John chuckled. "That's not what you tell me when you get on my case. Being a doctor and all, you know that if you don't rest then you'll make mistakes. You'll miss something. Maybe that something that will save Carson. I know you don't want that to happen." John could play a bit dirty with her if he had too. It was for her own good and, besides, turning the tables on her was kind of nice.

"I hate you right now," Keller hissed at him, but she wasn't glaring at him. Instead she was resigned. She laid back, letting John cover her with a blanket. "What if I can't fix this?" she called out, as he turned to grab a bottle of water off her desk.

"You'll fix it," John stated, because he knew that she would. Because she had to. So she would. Holding out the water bottle in one hand, John offered a Tylenol packet with the other. "Take these. With a little luck you'll wake up fresh and headache free and ready to fight the fight again."

Keller took the bottle but just stared at the packet. "Where did you get those? They're not what we carry here."

John made a face then shrugged. "Brought them back with me when I went back to Earth. No reason to bother you for a simple headache, Doc."

"How else can I keep tabs on you, Colonel?" she replied, sounding a bit irritated. But she took the packet and swallowed down the pills. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." John took the water back and set the bottle on the desk, then he watched her settle in under the blanket. When her eyes closed he turned off the light and said, "Carson has faith in you...and so do I," before quietly walking away.

He didn't go back to his own room. Instead he made another circuit of Atlantis before checking in on Keller. She was sleeping when he peeked in. John almost ran into one of the night nurses on his way back out, who promised to make sure that Dr. Keller slept in. It was nearly four am when he went back to his own room and stretched out on top of the covers of his bed.

Eyes wide open, John watched the light of day chase away the shadows of the night.

Only then did he close his own eyes.

OoO

John had alot of respect for Colonel Carter. Coming in to take Elizabeth's place couldn't have been easy, but Carter had made the transition as smooth and seamless as possible. She had been accepted into the fold, but in a way she was still an outsider. John knew she had to be feeling rather alienated from the rest of them right now. He had no doubt but that she understood their pain, loss, frustration and that she shared in it. But at the same time she wasn't really a part of their family. She wasn't a true member of their team as it were.

She was keeping her distance and suffering in silence. John didn't think that was right. Another two days had passed. Another lead on Teyla had fallen through. Keller still hadn't found the cure for Carson. Everyone was feeling the pressure and the tension. Everyone knew they were running out of time. John was pretty much counting down the seconds and feeling like his stomach was twisting into a knot that would never come undone.

When they had returned from M3R-226 just a few hours ago, Rodney had snapped at Carter as she came to greet them. For no reason other than he was angry and miserable. Ronon was pretty much just glaring and grunting at everyone, and had come close to pushing Carter out of his way simply because he needed someone to be angry at. Someone to lash out against. John understood that feeling.

He also understood the sadness etched in Carter's eyes. So he knocked on her office door, two mugs of coffee cluched by the handles in one fist. "Busy?" he asked, when she looked up from her laptop screen.

"Nothing I can't put on hold," Carter allowed. "Come in, John. Is anything wrong?"

"What isn't wrong?" he countered, holding out one mug. "Hope I made it right."

She looked both surprised and grateful as she accepted the mug and took a sip. "Just right. Not all that surprising. I've noticed you pay close attention to details."

John nodded as he sat down with his own mug. "Sometimes it's the little things you tend to overlook that make the difference."

"Very true," Carter conceded. "So what brings you around at this late hour?"

"Just figured I'd stop in and enjoy the quiet." John smiled as he gestured to her office. "Lately this seems to be the only quiet zone in Atlantis."

Carter studied him a moment, took another sip of coffee, then queried, "Is that the polite way of saying I'm hiding in here?"

John just shrugged at her. If she wanted to talk, he was here to listen. If she wanted to just sit in companionable silence, he could do that too. He didn't know her well enough to know the best way to help her.

"I guess I might be hiding out a little," Carter confessed. "I feel useless and that makes me feel guiltier than I already do."

"How does the math work on that?" John prompted, feeling a bit confused.

Heaving a sigh, Carter leaned back into her chair and rubbed her temples. "I'm the leader of Atlantis. I'm supposed to be able to fix things. I should be able to fix Carson and to find Teyla and..." she trailed off on another sigh.

John leaned forward, determination burning in his eyes. "We will find Teyla and fix Carson," he almost snapped out. "Because failure isn't an option for us. For any of us. So those things will happen, and it's not on you alone to make it happen."

"It's not on you alone either, John," Carter shot back, meeting his gaze and holding it.

"I know." He let himself smile, because she did understand where he was coming from. But by the same token, he knew where she was coming from as well. "You can't blame yourself for Teyla being kidnapped."

Carter winced, going back to massaging her temples. "I let her go."

John nodded. "You had no choice. It was Teyla's decision to make. She made that very clear all along." She had certainly said it to him enough times, even though sometimes he tried not to hear her. "Teyla doesn't leave anyone behind anymore than the rest of us do. She had to go and shit happened. So we deal with it, we find her, we bring her home. End of story."

"Sounds like a plan," Carter said softly, after a long moment of silent understanding passed between them.

"A good plan," John confirmed. He took a few swallows of coffee then asked, "You play chess?"

Carter looked surprised by the question, but answered readily enough. "I used too. Haven't had much of a chance to play the past few years."

John saw a spark of genuine interest in her eyes and he knew she was as desperate for a few hours of distraction as he was. "I have a board in my room. Be right back." He pushed out of the chair and headed for the door.

"You're not going to wipe the floor with me, are you, John?" Carter called after his retreating form.

"Depends," John shot back. "Are you a betting kind of Colonel?" The sound of her laughter following him down the steps made John walk a little bit lighter, easing the weight of his own exhaustion and regret.

It was enough to get them through another day.

OoO

John stood off to the side of the doorway, watching Ronon kick and punch the practice dummy. The Satedan was grunting with each blow, sweat pouring off his face, his dreads whipping from side to side as he moved. His body looked at tight and tense as a coiled spring.

"What did the dummy ever do to you?" John called out after a few minutes had passed and Ronon hadn't even slowed down.

But John's words made him stutter to a halt, head turning as Ronon glared at him. "No one will spar with me," he rumbled.

John moved further into the room. "Yeah, I heard you've pretty much scared everyone off. Gotta rein in the anger a bit, big guy. You're scaring my marines. And they don't scare easy."

"Not my problem." Ronon punched the dummy a couple of times then turned away and grabbed a water bottle that was sitting on a nearby bench. He guzzled half the contents, eyes never straying off of John. "Why are you here?" he finally asked, when John did nothing more than simply stare back at him.

"I thought we could spar a bit." John was dressed in work out clothes and he had his banto sticks clutched in one hand. "I know I'm not as challenging as sparring with Teyla, but I might be able to keep up for a little while."

Ronon snorted, but he put the water bottle down and moved to grab his own set of sticks. "I'm pretty pissed off right now," he confessed. "You could get hurt."

John understood what Ronon was telling him. He knew the Satedan was offering him a chance to walk away. But John knew he could trust Ronon to hold his punches when he had too. He knew would never, intentionally, hurt him. The big guy was just hurting so much right now that he didn't know where to put the pain. John was pretty much running out of room for his own. But his only reply was to take up a ready position, falling into a defensive stance that Teyla had taught him.

Ronon nodded, moving to stand before him. He locked eyes with John then he lashed out, all the anger and pain he was feeling, behind the blow. Right up until the moment his stick smacked into John's. Ronon pulled the blow, looking surprised when John slipped under it and turned to smack back. Ronon barely got his stick up in time to save his hip. "Nice move," he growled.

"It took Teyla about six months to teach it too me," John replied, grinning. "I can be a slow learner about some things."

"Me too," Ronon conceded.

Which let John know they were on the same page. Teyla had a way of teaching people things they needed to know but didn't want to learn. "We'll get her back," John said, as he ducked a blow and retaliated. Their sticks clanged together before they retreated again. "Whatever it takes...however long it takes..." He broke off to duck another hit, turning sharply to catch Ronon on the ass. Revenge was sweet, although John knew he'd get nailed at some point. That kind of pain was easier to deal with. "We'll find Teyla," he promised.

Ronon circled around John, silent for a long moment, looking as if he were struggling with what to say. Then suddenly he let his arms drop, sticks falling to the floor. "I know we'll find her," he said quietly. "Because you won't stop looking."

"I won't." John said it out loud because he needed to hear it as much as Ronon did. Waving his own sticks John asked, "You want to kick my ass or go watch a movie."

"Movie," Ronon replied. "Part 2 of Lord of the Rings. That okay?"

"Works for me." John wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead with the back of one hand. They hadn't fought for long, but he had to stay on his toes with Ronon, almost as much as he did with Teyla. They both challenged him in their own way. "How about you meet me in my room in half an hour. I want to shower first and you have to shower." He wrinkled his nose as Ronon walked by him, then he yelped as the big guy whacked him on the ass with his sticks. "What the hell was that for?"

Ronon grinned. "To keep you on your toes. You let your guard down."

John glared at him, but there was no heat behind it. "Not when it matters," he whispered.

"Nope." No one did succinct like Ronon did. "See you in half an hour. I'll bring the food."

John watched him go, rubbing his butt to ease the sting. He had a feeling Ronon would talk about Teyla during the movie, relating how he felt through the characters reactions on screen. He had a habit of doing that since they'd introduced him to movies. John was good with that.

Heading for the door himself, he paused a moment to try and rub some of the tension out of his neck. He'd be downing a pack of his hidden stash of tylenol before the movie. He'd had an ongoing tension headache for what felt like the past year. But knowing that Ronon was going to be okay loosened the vise around his head a bit. He needed Ronon to be okay. He needed everyone to be okay. The only way to get Teyla back and to fix Carson was together. As a team united. So John would do whatever it took to keep them together. To keep them safe.

There wasn't room for anymore failure.

OoO

The smell coming from the plates of food he carried on a tray, made John's stomach twist into tighter knots. He wasn't really hungry, but he knew he had to eat and he was damn well going to make Rodney take a break and eat. McKay was trying to help Keller find a cure and at the same time he was working with Todd, through their relay link, to try and locate possible locations where Teyla might be. It was grueling work and Rodney sometimes forgot to take a break, so John made sure he took them. Which meant eating meals together, playing lots of video games, and tricking Rodney into taking naps. Slipping him decaf coffee was sometimes enough to get the job done.

"Chow time," John called out, as he entered Rodney's lab. He saw gadgets strewn about and some stuff on the floor, which meant Rodney had probably had a little melt down earlier. John didn't begrudge him that. If anything he envied him a little. He couldn't even think about having a meltdown. He couldn't risk getting caught. He could risk being unable to turn off the emotional overflow.

Moving to Rodney's side, John set the tray down and grabbed a stool. "Lasagna night, one of your favorites."

Rodney didn't look up from his laptop screen. "Later," he muttered.

"Now, Rodney," John countered, hand moving to hover over the power button. "Eat or I shut you down."

"Oh, who made you the boss of me?" Rodney spat, but he shoved the laptop aside as he spoke, free hand reaching for his plate.

John smiled as he watched McKay dig in. For all that Rodney could be a hypochondriac, he really did have low blood sugar, so he really did need to eat at regular intervals. It wasn't as dire a situation as he often liked to make out. John had made it a point to check on that fact with Carson the moment he put Rodney on his team. But Rodney worked better and remained healthier if he ate regular meals. A win-win scenario all the way around.

After stuffing his face for a few minutes, Rodney paused to point at John's plate. "You're supposed to eat it, not play with it."

"Duh," John drawled, as he continued to make patterns in the sauce with his fork. "Had a late lunch so I'm not really hungry yet." It was close enough to the truth to let it slide. "Any luck on anything today?"

"Look at my face." Rodney pointed to himself with both hands. "Do I look like a man who had any luck on anything?"

John studied Rodney, seeing the dark circles under his eyes and more stress lines around his mouth and streaking his forehead. "Nope. Can't say that you do."

Rodney heaved a dramatic sigh and went back to stuffing his face for the moment. He paused for a drink of water then it was his turn to study John. "Do you really believe Teyla is still alive?"

"You don't?" John knew that Rodney had some doubts, mainly because time was running out, but he found it hard to believe that McKay was giving up. Rodney might bitch about things, but he didn't give up.

"I don't know what to believe anymore," Rodney confessed. "Sometimes nothing makes sense." He stared down at his plate and stabbed at his half gone slab of lasagna.

John wasn't sure what to say, so he decided to share his own thoughts. To be as honest as he could. "Michael took Teyla for a reason. I don't think he'll kill her. I think he needs her alive."

Rodney grunted. "I think he took her because of the baby. He's a freaking mad scientist and he hates us. I think he wants her baby and intends to try and turn it into some kind of super duper evil Wraith being. Like the Anti-Superman or something."

It was the same fear that ate away at John, and he could only nod in response. But after a heavy silence he whispered, "We're going to find her before that happens. And Keller is going to find a way to fix Carson. It's going to happen, Rodney. We'll get them both back."

"Yeah. Right." Rodney pushed his plate aside. "Only it's not really Carson."

"Close enough," John replied, even though it bothered him to know that the Carson in stasis was a clone created by Michael, and not the man they had all called friend. At the same time he was willing to accept him back into the fold. He was willing to believe.

Rodney sighed and rubbed at his eyes. "If I go blind figuring out how to save Carson, I'm going to make his life miserable because of it."

John chuckled and patted Rodney on the shoulder. It was good to hear the spark that was McKay coming through. "He wouldn't have it any other way. Now eat. Clean your plate and you get chocolate cake."

"Cake?" Rodney's eyes lit up and he stared at the now empty tray. "I don't see any cake."

"It's in my room and you're not getting any until you eat." John pushed Rodney's plate back in front of him.

Only to have Rodney turn the tables on him. "Same deal for you, Colonel. You don't clean your plate, then I eat your piece as well as mine."

John was actually okay with that idea, but he didn't tell Rodney that. Instead he lifted his fork and started eating, swallowing hard to get each bite down between chitchat about Batman versus Spiderman. Rodney did clean his plate and John conceded defeat by not making much of a dent in his, so when they went to his room for cake, he handed his over.

But Rodney only accepted a portion of it, insisting John eat the rest. They sat on the couch, eating cake and watching a Monty Python DVD and it felt almost like things were normal. Half way through the DVD, Rodney fell asleep, head lolled to one side, snoring loudly.

John got up, cleared the plates and covered Rodney with a blanket. Then he grabbed a book and stretched out on his bed. It wouldn't be the first night he had fallen asleep to the serenade of Rodney's snores. He'd be happy to get some sleep any way he could.

OoO

Todd contacted them two days later. He had a location on a planet where his source claimed the abomination was hiding. Todd assumed the source was referring to Michael. John was willing to take a chance on Todd being right. It was better than sitting around and doing nothing. At least if they were out there, actively looking for Teyla, he felt like they were making some kind of progress towards finding her.

Todd's source wasn't far off. Wraith were there, and Michael could have been. A Wraith dart took off even as John and his team were forced into battle. By the time they made their escape back through the gate to Atlantis, minus any sighting of Teyla, John felt like he had gone ten rounds with Muhammad Ali. One of the Wraith drones had nabbed him and knocked him around a bit and John felt like one, big, giant ache.

But it hurt worse to have to report to Carter that they hadn't found Teyla. She nodded at him and dismissed them to be checked. John realized they all looked the worse for wear. Rodney was muttering to himself about ringing in his ears and sore fingers from firing his P90. Ronon had blood running down his forearm and dirt on his face, and John doubted he looked any better.

They made their way to the infirmary, where Keller dragged herself away from her lab to look them over. John let Rodney and Ronon go first, leaning against one of the beds as he watched Keller stitch Ronon's arm closed. Rodney had already been cleared and had wandered away to shower.

Apparently he zoned out a bit, because the next thing John knew, Keller was touching his arm and telling him he was up next. He nodded at her, the motion sending a flare of pain through his skull, and when he took a step forward his knees buckled and John felt himself fold into himself. Darkness claimed him before he hit the floor.

OoO

"How did we not see this?" Rodney was ranting, when John made his way back to consciousness.

"Because we weren't looking," Carter replied.

John wondered what they were talking about. Had they found Teyla while he was out of it? And how the hell long had he been out of it anyway? He peeled his eyes open and lifted his left arm to check his watch, only to find it gone and an IV taped to the back of his hand. He frowned at it.

"Colonel?" Keller was suddenly there, hovering over him and looking relieved.

"Hey," John croaked, his throat feeling dry and rough as sand paper.

Which prompted Keller to raise the head of his bed a bit more and offer him a sip of water.

John took two and it felt like heaven sliding down his throat. "How long?" he asked, knowing she'd get what he meant without spelling it out. His vocal chords still felt a bit iffy.

"Ten hours, Colonel."

Which would explain his suddenly urgent need to pee. "Bathroom," John said, blushing a bit. He made to push the covers back and suddenly Ronon was there with a wheel chair and John found himself in it and being pushed to the back of the room before he could blink. "I can walk," he muttered, feeling cranky. His head hurt, his body ached and he really, really hated IV's. The damn thing was hooked to the pole that was attached to the back of his chair, and any movement he made made the port pinch against his skin.

Ronon made a rumbling sound, deep in his chest. Might have been amusement or..yeah...probably amusement. "Chair's faster. Keller said you're gonna be pretty weak and out of it for a while."

"I'm fine," John replied, automatically. He knew he wasn't, but he would be, because he couldn't afford to be anything else.

They reached the bathroom and Ronon pretty much carried him in, positioned him, turned his back while John went about his business, then helped him over to the sink before depositing him back in the wheel chair. It wasn't until the blanket was back over his lap that John realized he was wearing scrubs. Which made him feel a little bit better about his current predicament. "What happened?" he asked, as he was pushed back to bed.

"You passed out." Ronon was blunt. "Keller told us you're exhausted and malnourished and dehydrated and that you got smacked around pretty good." There was a moment of silence before Ronon added, "You should have said something." It sounded like an accusation.

One John didn't have to respond to at the moment because, thankfully, they had reached his bed and Keller and Ronon set about getting him back in it. Rodney moved in to fuss with John's covers, which amused him more than a little. But his smile faded as he felt the gaze of everyone upon him, including Carter, who had just arrived.

But she was the one to break to the heavy silence. "You had us worried, Colonel. How are you feeling?"

"I'm good." John winced at how trite and untrue that sounded, even to his own ears. He knew he wasn't good at the moment. None of them were.

"You're anything but good!" Rodney snapped, glaring at John. "Not that it's entirely your fault. It is mostly your fault, but not entirely. We should have seen it."

John frowned, not catching on to what Rodney meant. "Seen what?" he prompted.

Rodney stared at him in disbelief. "Seen what," he echoed, shaking his head. "How exhausted you were. How you weren't eating properly. How you were so busy taking care of us that you forgot to take care of yourself!" Rodney's voice rose in tone and volume as he spoke until he was practically shouting.

It was Keller who shushed him. "What Rodney is trying to say is that you wore yourself down and out, Colonel. You were so busy making sure that all of us were eating and sleeping and dealing with things that you didn't have any energy left for yourself."

"That's not what's happened here!" John protested, even though they all knew she was speaking the truth. He knew it too, but it sounded like something different to hear it said out loud. All he had tried to do was make sure they were okay.

"You always have to be the big damn hero in every way!" Rodney snapped at him. "You need to STOP THAT!" But it was obvious that he wasn't really angry at John. Just worried in the way that Rodney worried. By yelling at the people he cared about. It was a different kind of yelling than his anger at people he considered to be idiots.

John started to shake his head, but that sent off flares of pain in his temples so he stopped in mid shake. But he wanted them to understand.

Before he could say anything, Carter was reaching out to squeeze his arm. "We know what you were doing, John, and we appreciate it. You took care of us, and now we're going to take care of you."

"I just..." John broke off feeling frustrated, because he didn't have time for this. "A few hours sleep and I'll be fine."

"You'll be under my care for at least three more days," Keller countered, her tone brooking no argument. Which she could do because she knew her status trumped his own when it came to medical matters.

John didn't want to hear that. He looked at Carter, pulling out the puppy dog eyes. "If we get a lead I need to be out there."

Ronon moved to John's other side, patting his leg. "Lorne and I will handle it. McKay'll come if we need him. It's covered until you're back on your feet." Ronon locked eyes with John and let him see what didn't need to be said. That Ronon had faith that John would be back on his feet soon and back out there doing what needed to be done.

"I'm going to give you something to help you sleep, Colonel," Keller interjected, wielding a syringe before dumping the contents into his IV port. "You'll feel better when you wake up."

"I want to stay in the loop," John said, looking at Carter. "If you find anything, you tell me." He glanced over to Keller. "You can wake me up, right?"

She nodded. "I can do that."

Carter was squeezing his arm again. "I promise to keep you in the loop, John. Now get some rest." She smiled then turned away.

John felt his eyelids getting heavy. He fought against it, but the drugs were stronger than he was in this moment.

"Ronon will grab us some dinner when you wake up," Rodney was saying, his voice fading into an echo.

"I'll grab me and Sheppard some dinner," Ronon allowed, his heavy footsteps thumping around the bed until the creak of a chair as he settled into it. John felt himself drifting off, but he clung to their voices for as long as he could.

Rodney whined in reply. "Why can't you bring me dinner too."

"You can walk," Ronon answered. "You should walk more."

"I hate you," Rodney groused, no heat in his reply.

Ronon chuckled and John swore he could feel the vibration in his own chest. Another sound of creaking chair, then the clacking tap of fingers on a keyboard. John felt himself relaxing at the familiar sound. He didn't need keepers, but it was comforting to have his team near. And soon Teyla would be back with them. He would see to it.

As John finally let himself drift away, he heard Rodney challenge Ronon to a game of Prime, not Prime.

"Beat me at thumb wars and I'll let you keep your dessert tonight."

"Like that's going to happen!" Rodney snapped. "I like my thumbs as much as I like my dessert. Go carve knives with your teeth or something. Can't you see I'm busy?"

"You're the one who wanted to play games," Ronon reminded him.

Whatever Rodney said was lost in a buzz of white noise as John softly drifted into darkness.

**THE END**


End file.
